I’ve got you

I love taking care of my husband when he gets too drunk.

That probably seems weird to some (most?) people, but it’s true. It doesn’t bother me at all. I’m happy to leave wherever we are as soon as he says he’s had too much, drive him home, get him undressed, and safely into bed. Give him three Thive+ tablets, two Advil, and a big glass of water. Tell him I love him and soothe him to sleep.

I remember when I was with G (my ex-husband) and how he would shame me every time I got too drunk. He was so brutal that he had me thinking I had a legitimate drinking problem; when really I was just blowing off steam. I remember the night I found out I passed the bar exam: we went out with a few friends and I really cut loose, which I like to think was completely understandable under the circumstances. But apparently not, because he shit talked me for days. I sucked. I was an alcoholic. And a bad wife. And selfish. And it went on and on. All because I had too many drinks in celebration of a huge fucking achievement: you know…passing the fucking bar exam, and got spinny and nauseated as a result. I never ever forgot the way he made me feel, and I promised myself I’d never make anyone else feel shitty for getting too drunk. Getting yelled at while you’re throwing up is the fucking worst. Who does that to someone they supposedly love??

I remember the first time I got too drunk around D. It was during our first summer together. I got super defensive because I just assumed he would be shitty to me because of it, and as a result, I was unintentionally shitty to him. That was a huge relationship milestone for us. That night was my first significant indication that maybe I could relax around him. It feels good to know you’re safe and taken care of no matter what. I want D, my kids, and my friends to always know I’ve got them. No matter what.

mom stuff

My ex is likely to be annoyed af when he wakes up and sees the six reminders I have sent him related to Jackson’s various activities. But I can’t count on him to remember, so…

This reminds me…I need to send an email to D’s ex so that I can get some dates from her. I have some summer scheduling to do.

Keeping up with these kids’ schedules is like a part-time job all by itself.

Did I mention that Jackson wants to go to the week long cub scouts sleepaway camp this summer? Well he does, and I got his dad on board, so I guess I just need to get him registered. But fuck…my baby is growing up. *cries* I know this is going to be such a good experience for him though.

Oh and Miss Freya is going away for like 3 WEEKS to do a summer program at Truman State! Her preferred slot will have her away for her 13th birthday. She asked me several months ago if I thought that was acceptable, and I told her about how I spent my 13th birthday at a summer camp too.  I never regretted it. We will celebrate her birthday when she gets home. But damn I’m going to miss the hell out of her.

They’re growing up too fast, but I do so love the privilege of being a part of it.


We often find ourselves without the shit most married people have accumulated by this point: like super tall ladders, certain tools, and, most importantly right now — a snow shovel.

When you get divorced, you lose a lot of your stuff. Especially when you’re the one who initiates the split. It’s easier to just let them have the stuff; you’ve caused enough damage. It takes time to recover from that…to rebuild. But you tend to forget about shit until you actually need it: like the snow shovel.

To be fair, I don’t think my ex and I ever owned a snow shovel (or a ladder for that matter). We were not those practical kind of people, and we rented, so there was no place to put such things. My husband certainly did, but now it belongs to his ex-wife. So we have no snow shovel here, which means there is no way to get out of here until the snow melts, and it won’t be above freezing until Tuesday. 🤣

I guess we will be borrowing one from the neighbors.

Or maybe we will just say cooped up in the house indefinitely. I can certainly think of worst things. ❤️

I’m just going to say it

Because fuck it.

I’m sitting in the parking lot at the orthodontist’s office, and I need to vent.

Guess who couldn’t be bothered to show up today? Yep…Jackson’s dad. I mean I’m not surprised or anything, but I am angry and disappointed. It’s bad enough I have to carry the financial burden on my own, and the time burden too; since despite the fact that he’s unemployed, I can’t trust him to get Jackson where he needs to be. I’m just extremely fucking frustrated right now and I needed to put it out into the world. So here it is.



So apparently when D and I were talking about moving in together, we were supposed to tell the exes right away, and failing to tell them immediately (8 months in advance) turned into a whole fucking thing.

But sure…just move someone in and don’t mention it to us. That’s cool. I forgot about the double standard. 👍🏻

D said…

I thought about changing the lyrics to “Freya’s mom has got it going on” and it didn’t even occur to me until later that I wouldn’t have been singing about you.

Awwww. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I feel that way a lot too actually. The four of us have such an amazing family dynamic going that it’s easy to forget sometimes that it’s not just about us. They have their other lives with the other parents.